For Queen and Baker Street
by breathing is over-rated
Summary: A compilation of Queen song fics. Ratings for each at the beginning of the chapter. I wish I could say I was sorry.


**Break Free**

Summary: John wants to break free. Pure crack. I was a little (hella lot) bored and I have been listening to Queen for the past month.  
Rating: Meh… T, I guess. There's nothing really in it but just to be safe  
Warnings: Singing, silliness and a violin  
Disclaimer: The song belongs to Queen (behold their shining glory) and the characters belong to BBC Sherlock and Arthur Conan Doyle. I own nothing, I am merely a puppet master.

* * *

Perhaps it was the fact that he was wearing a pink shirt (those damned red pants had slipped into the washing basket with his whites and stained the lot), or maybe it was that he was standing in the living room with the Hoover wondering just which bit of mess he should start with but John Watson, ex-army medic who served with the 57th Fusilier, soon found himself humming a catchy little ditty. Sherlock, AKA The Messy Bastard, had declined to help tidy in favour of going to Bart's to do an experiment including a corpse. He was happy for Mrs Hudson to clean up after him, all the while spewing 'I'm not your housekeeper' but John just felt guilty if he tried. The point was, Sherlock was not home and Mrs Hudson was out of ear shot so the good doctor felt no shame as his humming turned into a full blown music video.

"I want to break free!" He sang, moving the Hoover rhythmically.  
"I want to break free! I want to break free from your lies, you're so self _satisfied,_ I don't need you." John reminded himself that the song wasn't about Sherlock as he twirled round the Hoover in an almost feminine spin.  
"I've got to break free. God knows, God knows I want to break free." John turned round and came face to face with a bemused flatmate. The doctor gawped like a fish, opening and closing his mouth without words coming out. The detective prowled forward, a fire dancing in his eyes.

"I've fallen in love." The baritone voice picked up. John frowned in confusion, wondering just how Sherlock knew Queen.  
"I've fallen in love for the first time, this time I know it's for real. I've fallen in love." The doctor became aware that his flatmate was very, _very _close to him. Some would say too close. They were nearly nose to nose now, Sherlock shimmied down his body and picked something up from the floor.  
"God knows, God knows I've fallen in love." John half sang, half moaned.

"It's strange but it's true." Sherlock purred as long fingers tuned the strings of his violin. _Oh that bastard, _John thought, realising that it was the object his friend had picked up from the floor.  
"I can't get over the way you like me like you do." The detective continued, making his way towards the doctor again, this time with the violin nestled on his collar bone.  
"But I _have _to be sure when I walk out that door. Oh how I want to be free." He lamented, his eyelashes fluttering  
"Oh how I want to be free." It wasn't fair. Sherlock didn't get to look like a blushing maiden. It wasn't right. "Oh how I've got to break free." John very nearly lost himself right there and then that _bastard _flew into the guitar solo. On his bloody violin. And _God _how did he know that? Sherlock grinned manically, white teeth gleaming from behind cupid bow lips.

"But life still goes on." John continued, the violin now picking up the harmony line.  
"I can't get used to living without, living without living, without you by my side." Sherlock answered, sliding closer.  
"I don't want to live alone. Woah." The doctor continued, doe-eyed.  
"I've got to make it on my own." His flatmate supplied.  
"So baby can't you see? I've got to break free!" John broke away, turning to back to the forgotten Hoover and starting to vacuum again.  
"I've got to break free." Sherlock sang, his voice fading as he entered the bedroom.  
"I've want to break free." John wondered just what madness had befallen them as the ghostly, muffled refrain radiated from the detective's room.  
"I want, I want, I want to break free."

* * *

Across London, a man behind the desk saved the recorded file. His brother was sure to find the camera soon and dismantle it when he did, but he couldn't do anything about this little number which was soon to become Mummy's Christmas present.

* * *

**AN- I regret nothing! I will be posting more of these. I have too much Queen in my head and this is the result. **


End file.
